


Campus Conundrum

by CheetahLeopard2, orphan_account



Series: Gifts and also what I'm doing instead of working on my others [22]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, alternating povs, so many misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 02:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8560879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheetahLeopard2/pseuds/CheetahLeopard2, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which 1) Daishou pretends to be Terushima's boyfriend to save him from a flirty stranger 2) they bump into each other at a party after hiding their feelings for weeks and 3) their roommates can't believe how oblivious those two can be.
  Shirabu rolls his eyes. “Alright, for you to be using that tone, you’re fucked.” Shirabu pauses, considering. “Or rather, you want to be fucked.”Yuuji smirks into the sheets. “Maybe I do.”Shirabu wrinkles his nose. “Okay, I did not need to know that. And get off my legs before I skin you alive and drown you in a pool of lemon juice and cat pee.”“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Yuuji remembers what Daishou had told him. “Or maybe you’re just sore from being with Sem-”“That’s it.” Shirabu sets his phone to the side and uses the momentum to flip Yuuji off the mattress. “I’m heading outside. Text me when you’re prepared to ask the guy out and save me from a lifetime of your gay pining.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> KeyofUV: Hey! It's been super fun working with CheetahLeopard, who introduced me to Terushou and it is legitimately rarepair purgatory. Please enjoy!

_Right, so if this is this building here then I am…_ Yuuji swirls his finger around the map of campus before letting it drop with a sigh. “Compleeetely lost.”  

“Lost?” A voice purrs, sounding vaguely familiar. “How about I help you out?” Yuuji flinches as an arm settles around his waist and a head plops onto his shoulder.

“No,” Yuuji says. “Thanks, though!” He keeps his usual cheery demeanor although a hint of annoyance leaks into his voice. Even though Yuuji usually loves people, he hopes that this guy will just buzz off. His breath is horrible.

The arm tightens around his waist, pulling Yuuji against the guy’s chest. “Are you sure? Perhaps you don’t remember me.”

 _Oh_ , Yuuji realizes. _This dude was at one of my parties._ “Ah, no. I remember you. I just don’t want to _go_ with you.”

Yuuji can see the stranger frown out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, I think you do. After all, I’m Kyoto Subaru, and trust me-” he leans closer, if that were even possible- “I don’t disappoint.”

Great, the he’s one of _those_ people. The ones that think they’re cool and popular when in reality, no one likes them or their pompous attitude. Kyoto’s smirking now, eyes lowered in a twisted version of a flirtatious look, and Yuuji feels annoyance curl inside of him. Just because he likes to party doesn’t mean he’ll throw himself at any multicellular species that crosses his path.

“You sound like you think I’d be glad to know you. But the way you’re acting makes me think otherwise,” Yuuji says, cheekily pushing the guy off. “Now please let me go.”

He realizes his mistake when Kyoto’s hand clamps around his arm with a terrifying amount of strength. Yuuji looks around in panic; they’re all alone in the middle of campus with no one to stop what might happen, and-

“Get your hands off my boyfriend, you piece of shit.”

 

\---

 

Suguru’s just about to finish page sixty-seven when he hears two people talking. He’s sitting at the base of a large tree, the trunk obscuring him from view, and he’s frowning because he hates being interrupted. He stands up and peers through a gap in the branches, wondering who’d shattered the silence.

There are two boys: one has his arm wrapped around the other, an oily smile plastered on his face; the other looks distinctly uncomfortable, shrinking away from his touch. Suguru is reminded of that one late-night convenience store run when he’d been ambushed by a pervert, his roommate Semi arriving only just in time to save him from the encounter. Looking back, maybe it’s the lingering disgust from that memory that pushes him to do what he’s about to do.

Suguru creeps along the fringe of trees until he’s behind the two guys, and then he takes a deep breath, breaks into a jog, and calls out, “Get your hands off my boyfriend, you piece of shit!”

The oily-looking boy is surprised enough that he lets go of the other, and Suguru takes the opportunity to swing his arm around the lost boy’s shoulders and steer him away. Suguru flashes him a look, _just go with it_ , and says, “I was looking all over for you! C’mon, you don’t want to be late for your class, we should hurry up and get there before the bell rings-” and then they take off in a sprint, running until they reach the busier parts of campus.

Once they’re there, the boy grins and cuffs Suguru on the shoulder. “Thanks for saving my ass back there,” he says, and even though it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to be loud, Suguru feels like his eardrums are in danger of exploding. “You’re the best fake boyfriend ever!”

“You’re welcome,” Suguru says. “It’s what my roommate did for me last semester. I can’t believe it actually worked.”

The other boy laughs. “Yeah, well, it did, and that’s what matters. My name’s Terushima Yuuji, by the way! What’s yours?”

“Daishou Suguru.” A pause. “I’ve heard of you.”

“Yeah? And what’d you hear?”

“That you’re loud, which is true.” Suguru prides himself on his ability to keep his words perfectly neutral, letting his tone and voice carry out the implications for him. But Terushima seems unperturbed, and Suguru can’t decide whether or not that’s a good thing.

“Heck yeah,” Terushima says, pumping a fist in the air. “And...um… would you happen to know where Building J is?” He rubs the back of his neck in an apologetic manner, face flushing a light shade of pink.

Suguru points to the building on his left. “It’s the one after that,” he says. “You were actually pretty close.”

“Thank you!” Terushima says, flashing him a peace sign before jogging off in that direction. A few seconds later, he skids to a stop and turns around. “Hey, meet me at tomorrow at four in the Shiratorizawa bakery. My roommate works there- I can get you a free pastry. You know. As like, a thank you.”

“Sure,” Suguru says. He’s been to Shiratorizawa before; their mochi rolls are amazing. Semi drags him there all the time under the pretense of buying pastries, when in reality, they both know he’s just there to stare at that one brown-haired cashier. To be honest, Suguru doesn’t know what Semi sees in him, but then again, Semi’s kind of a weird guy. Likeable, but weird.

“See you tomorrow!” Terushima yells, the sheer force of his voice practically bowling Suguru over. He gives Suguru an enthusiastic wave before running off again; Suguru stares at his retreating back for a moment before realizing he’d forgotten his book under the tree. He sighs and turns back to get it.

 

\---

 

Yuuji rolls his neck to get the knot from his last class out, repeating the motion until he hears laughter behind him.

“Do you regularly stand in front of shops rolling your head around?” Daishou asks with a teasing smile, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Yuuji shrugs. “It’s great. You should try it.”

Daishou considers this for a moment before stepping forward so he’s next to Yuuji and tilting his face to the sky. Daishou hums in agreement after a couple of whorls, and Yuuji can’t help his smile.

This is only their third meeting, but Yuuji thinks Daishou is great. He’s snarky, but his way of defending his friends is often sickly sweet right before pointing out other’s weaknesses. Also, he’s smart, but he’s not an ass about it. (Most of the time, anyway.) And he loves to read, something Yuuji was delighted to find out.

Also, Daishou will often indulge Yuuji in his ridiculous experiments and often find he likes the results. They kind of have similar tastes, and anyone observing them would think that they’d been friends for years instead of having only met a few days ago. Sometimes Yuuji forgets himself and thinks that too.

To distract himself from that thought, Yuuji clears his throat. “Ready to go in?”

Daishou hums again, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah.” He pulls the handle of the cafe and holds it open.

“Like a proper gentleman,” jokes Yuuji.

Daishou laughs and bows slightly. “But of course.”

 _Fuck. I might get to love him._ Wouldn’t that make Yuuji’s day? Before he can dwell on this unsettling thought, Shirabu calls at them from the counter. “Hello again, asshats. What would you like today?”

Still running off the joke, Daishou turns to Yuuji. “Does anything tickle your fancy?”

Yuuji somehow manages to keep a level face as he replies, “How about the cinnamon roll, sir?”

“Ooohh, kinky,” Shirabu calls from the counter, but Yuuji ignores him.

“Because-” a wink “-I am a sinnamon roll.”

Daishou laughs. “You’re too dorky to be a sinnamon roll.”

Yuuji can’t argue with that, so he laughs as well and turns to the counter, where Shirabu already looks 200% done with their antics. Shirabu turns down Yuuji’s request for a free cinnamon roll, threatening to charge them twice the price. After Yuuji haggles it down to half-price and annoys Shirabu for just a bit longer, the pair head over to the park.

When they sit down, there’s a bit of silence. It’s not an uncomfortable silence by any means; rather, a companionable one. It’s unusual because they’ve only been friends for a short time, but they’re at ease with one another, all walls down when they’re by themselves.

Yuuji leans back and relaxes, sprawling out on the dirt with his face to the clouds.

“You’re always looking at the sky,” Daishou says, not even trying to hide the curiosity in his voice. “Does it look different when you’re on the ground?”

“Nah, it just seems like there’s more. Like the range of your vision is larger, if that makes sense.” Yuuji sounds tired but content, which matches how he feels perfectly.

Shirabu had spent half the night out with his mystery crush, and he’d forgotten to close the door of the dorm. At two in the morning, Yuuji had been woken up by a fight in the hallway, and it’d taken him forever to get back to sleep.

“It does, but it seems like it shouldn’t.” Daishou lies down beside Yuuji, and they just stay like that for some time, enjoying each other’s company. Yuuji watches the falling autumn leaves, a fiery ring of color against the blue sky.

When Yuuji hears Daishou’s breathing even out and the crinkle of leaves beside him, he turns to check.

Daishou’s curled up on his side with his eyes closed. The world seems to narrow down to the two of them, and Daishou makes a noise, shifting in his sleep. Yuuji really wants to kiss him, maybe wants to wake up next to him forever.

And then the thought registers.

_Shit._

 

\---

 

Suguru’s doing homework in the dorm room, a sprinkle of crumbs trailing down the page from the trail mix he’s selectively eating from a bowl. Next to him is Semi, earbuds plugged in and mouth curved into a small smile, textbook halfway across the room like it’s some kind of infectious slime mold.

Suguru glances at his watch and gets up to leave, shrugging on a jacket and stuffing his wallet into the pocket of his jeans. Semi takes an earbud out and says, “You’re going out to meet Terushima, right?” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face that Suguru doesn’t like the look of.

Suguru has one hand on the doorknob, and he turns around slowly and asks, “Where’d you hear that?”

“Shirabu told me.”

“Since when do you talk to Shirabu?” Semi’s face reddens and he looks away. _Jackpot._

“So not the point,” Semi says. “I’m just looking out for you. Have fun on your date!”

Suguru’s mouth emits an incoherent noise of distress, mind scrabbling to find a rebuttal to the challenge Semi’s thrown down. “It is _not_ a date! What the hell did Shirabu tell you?”

Semi says nothing. Suguru huffs and exits the room, yanking the door shut behind him with more force than strictly necessary. He could tell that Semi’s smirks and eyebrow-raises had been different than usual, as if he was more sure of himself, and it’s because Shirabu’s backing him up. _Fuck you, Semi. Fuck you and your- is he your boyfriend? Dammit. I forgot to ask if he was your boyfriend._

He exits the building and heads to the winding paths of campus, idly kicking leaves as he makes his way to the Shiratorizawa Bakery. Terushima’s waiting for him outside the shop, all vibrant smiles and brightly dyed hair, and when Suguru comes into his line of view he yells out a “Hey, you’re here!”

“My nosy roommate thinks I’m on a date with you,” Suguru says bluntly. “Any theories on how he got that idea?”

Terushima’s smile scales back a few hundred watts before coming back full force, like a lightbulb flickering in a power outage. “Ah, Shirabu just has some suspicions, that’s all. _Totally_ unfounded, of course- he thinks I like you or some incredibly dumb shit like that. Who’s your roommate?”

“Semi,” Suguru says, and Terushima’s face lights up in the gleeful smile of someone who has just passed a level on one of those trashy phone games.

“Semi, huh?” Terushima says. “I’ll have to ask Shirabu about him- _that_ should be an interesting conversation. Anyway, what else is up in the life of Daishou Suguru?”

“Daishou Suguru has midterms coming up and shouldn’t be hanging around a bakery with soul-stealing mochi rolls and a certain guy with spiky hair. Don’t you have midterms coming up too, actually?”

“Yaaas, mochi rolls!” Terushima says, totally ignoring the question. “Dammit, Daishou, and just when I thought I was getting slightly less addicted to them! You suck! I’ll pay, though.”

“You paid last time.” Suguru had forgotten his wallet, standing around for a full five minutes searching the seventeen pockets on his outfit before Terushima just went ahead and paid for both of them.

“So I can’t pay again?” Terushima asks, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re the accounting major, right? Here, let me explain to you how money works- if _you_ pay, you lose money. If you let the _dashingly handsome boy_ by the name of Terushima Yuuji pay, you _don’t_ lose money. At this rate, you’ll never pass your midterms!”

“Clearly, someone’s been minoring in sarcasm,” Suguru says dryly. “But seriously, Terushima, I have my wallet. I can pay for my own food. It’s not like-” he hesitates.

“Not like what?”

Suguru shifts uncomfortably. “Or else it’ll seem like-a… date? And obviously, it’s our oblivious roommates who need to go on a date, not us, so-”

“Fine, fine,” Terushima sighs. “So prideful. Anyway, you should come to the party my bro’s having this weekend. It’s gonna rock!”

“No thanks,” Suguru says. “I don’t really do parties.” To be honest, Suguru doesn’t know why Terushima isn’t bored of him yet. Suguru isn’t exciting at all.

“That’s okay,” Terushima says, although he looks a little let down. “It’d just be more fun if you were, that’s all! I mean, talking to you is super cool, so yeah, the offer’s always there if you want it.”

“Thanks,” Suguru says. He means it.

Terushima flops down onto the ground, a pile of yellow-clad limbs, and he stares up at Suguru with a guilty smile. “Also, please help me with my homework? I’ve got midterms coming soon-”

“You absolute- I can’t _believe_ you-”

“Sorry, sorry,” Terushima says, staring up at him with a pleading expression. “But pretty please? You’re the smartest person I know.”

“You’re the worst. I’m not even in your _major_ , good _grief_.” His usual composure is gone, wiped away by Terushima’s incredible display of idiocy. “I’m probably not even going to be much help. Ask someone else.”

“Yeah, but I want you to help,” Terushima shoots back. “You’re very good at manipulating the situation to your favor.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It means I learned something from you,” Terushima says. He leans over. “If you help me study this weekend, I’ll miss the party. It’d be more fun to hang out with you, even if it is with a textbook.”

Suguru glares at him. His heart rate speeds up, and he doesn’t know what to do because suddenly he feels warm all over. “Fine,” he says. “Your funeral.”

Terushima claps his hands. “Excellent! Meet me here on Saturday. And maybe bring your roommate? He can flirt Shirabu into giving us free cinnamon rolls.”

“I’m not dragging Semi into this.”

“Right, right, wouldn’t want him to feel too much like a third wheel,” Terushima says, winking. Suguru stares at him, mouth agape. “Kidding, kidding! Uh… Daishou? You alright?”

He is so, so dead.

  
  


The dorm door slides shut with a click, and Shirabu’s distracted “Welcome back” is ignored as Yuuji shuffles in and faceplants on the bed, burying his face in lavender-colored sheets and knocking the phone out of Shirabu’s hand.

“Ow! Fucking- Terushima, those were my _legs_!”

Yuuji begins his rant, completely ignoring Shirabu’s complaints. He’d exhausted Shirabu of his polite exterior awhile back, wearing the other down to the point where he no longer even tried to disguise his insults. “He’s so perfect! It’s not fair! He fell asleep watching the sky with me, Shirabu! He’s so open and snarky and caring and-”

Shirabu cuts him off. “If he’s perfect you shouldn’t be allowed to taint him. And of course it’s not fair- you don’t deserve fair _when you’ve crushed my legs._ ”

Yuuji flips Shirabu the bird without lifting his head. “And he smiled today. _Smiled_ , Shirabu! Like a genuine smile-”

“He must have thought of you dying.”

Yuuji sighs. “You have no appreciation for any good thing! Really, Kenjirooooo~”

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “Alright, for you to be using that tone, you’re fucked.” Shirabu pauses, considering. “Or rather, you want to be fucked.”

Yuuji smirks into the sheets. “Maybe I do.”

Shirabu wrinkles his nose. “Okay, I did _not_ need to know that. And get off my legs before I skin you alive and drown you in a pool of lemon juice and cat pee.”

“ _Someone_ woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Yuuji remembers what Daishou had told him. “Or maybe you’re just sore from being with Sem-”

“That’s it.” Shirabu sets his phone to the side and uses the momentum to flip Yuuji off the mattress. “I’m heading outside. Text me when you’re prepared to ask the guy out and save me from a lifetime of your gay pining.”

Yuuji pales at the thought of doing that and risking their friendship. He decides to annoy his roommate one last time, draping himself on the carpet as Shirabu gets his jacket. “But Shirabu, he _reads_.” The door slams shut unforgivingly.

After wallowing in self-pity for a few moments, Yuuji gets off the floor and notices Shirabu’s dorm key on the nightstand. _Great, just great._ Yuuji yanks on a light hoodie and runs after Shirabu, who’s actually just in the hallway.

Shirabu’s on his phone, and Yuuji pauses when he hears his name.

“-even worse, I bet. He’s ranting about him, Semi-san! He even called me ‘Kenjirooooo~’!-”

“-Oh, very funny- fine, I apologize for _all of my life mistakes_ , just please resolve this situation so I can die from old age and not from a roommate-induced stroke-”

Yuuji runs to grab the phone from his roommates hands, hitting the mute button with the urgency of deactivating a nuclear bomb. “No! Shirabu, Semi is Daishou’s roommate, so you can’t tell him anything!”

Shirabu looks done with life. “What the hell are you doing?”

Yuuji holds up Shirabu’s keys. “You forgot your keys. But Shirabu, Semi is his _roommate_. You don’t understand, you can’t tell him anything! Anything at all!”

Shirabu takes the keys and snatches back his phone. “I understand perfectly. I’m just taking action on your shitty love life because you don’t have the balls to do it yourself- sure, Semi-san, I’m still here, I’ll be out in a minute. Yeah, yeah. Don’t fall in the bush like you did last time.”

Shirabu slips past Yuuji’s whines and heads outside. Yuuji waits ten seconds and trails after him, down the stairs and out their dorm, following him to an isolated park on campus. Shirabu sits down on a wrought iron bench, and Yuuji worms into a hollow space underneath a shrub and waits.

Ten minutes later, Semi plops next to Shirabu on the bench, immediately beginning to complain. “Sorry I’m late. Suguru took my phone and locked it in the kitchen cabinet- apparently he was listening in on our conversation? It took me a few minutes to pick the lock. My roommate’s the _worst_ , honestly, and he’s so deep in denial it’s not even funny.”

Shirabu raises an eyebrow. “You think you’ve got worse than me? _My_ roommate face-planted full force onto my legs today and stole my phone to try and keep his crush a secret. I can’t take this anymore.”

Semi stares a bit before dissolving into laughter. “Your roommate sounds great, actually.” Yuuji nods empathetically from his space in the bush.

Shirabu gestures helplessly. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Take a video?”

Shirabu’s repulsed face makes Semi laugh so hard he almost slips off the bench, and Shirabu catches him reflexively by the arm. His face turns a bright shade of red, and Semi glances up at him and laughs even harder. Shirabu frowns and shoves him off, seeming pleased at Semi’s cry of surprise.

Yuuji’s had enough. He bursts out from his hiding space. “I do not like Daishou. Daishou does not like me. And both of you need to shut up!”

 

\---

 

“I cannot _believe_ you,” Suguru says, casting a furious glare at Semi when he comes back from his little excursion. “Are you using my pathetic love life as an excuse to further your relationship with Shirabu?”

Suguru know that’s being unfair- Semi is the kind of person that genuinely tries to make your life better, albeit going about it in the most irritating way possible. But his words hit the mark all the same, cutting through the air and hitting Semi’s head with a _clang_.

“What kind of question is that?” Semi asks, looking affronted. “I’ll have you know that I can talk to Shirabu _just fine_ without discussing your problems, and also, it’s so obvious that Terushima’s into you that it physically hurts my soul. At this point, Shirabu and I are just trying to resolve the issue, but you two insist on being idiots.”

“We all know that I’m not the kind of person Terushima likes,” Suguru shoots back. They’ve all heard the stories of Terushima’s amorous shenanigans: one-night stands, kisses with strangers, hickies applied to collarbones underneath blinking strobe lights and darkened ceilings. “And you know the kinds of things he does. Why hasn’t he tried to do any of that to me?”

“Maybe because he actually cares about you?” Semi says, flopping down onto the bed. “I don’t want to analyze this, okay? I’m not cut out for that kind of thing. I’m just pointing out that anyone within a fifty-mile radius can feel the sexual tension between you two, and it kind of makes me want to puke.”

“Feel free,” Suguru says dryly. “No one’s stopping you.”

He takes his pen and makes a few more marks in the notebook in his lap. Semi gets up and peers over Suguru’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Working on the budget for next month,” Suguru says. “You know, actually doing something useful. Unlike you.”

Semi ignores this comment and snatches the paper out of Suguru’s hands. “Give me that.” He scans it over, squinting at the scrawled notes. “Dammit, our ramen to actual food ratio for next month is seven to two?” Semi’s eyes widen. “...Sorry, um, I _may_ have forgotten to tell you that Shirabu got me a job at the Shiratorizawa cafe a week ago.”

Suguru violently snatches the paper back, crumpling it into a ball and shoving it in the trash can. “And you _neglected_ to mention this to me?”

“Okay, you were really busy with midterms and Terushima-”

“Do not even _try_ and guilt-trip me on this one,” Suguru says. “We’re both broke college students, and _all_ of my calculations are incorrect now.”

“At least the ramen ratio will be higher?”

“You have a fucking accountant for a roommate and you don’t even appreciate that. How many other people that you know of would bother to calculate your ramen ratio? _How many_?”

“Sorry,” Semi says, actually sounding sincere for once. “I actually am, you know, for messing up your work. I owe you one.”

“Okay- never meddle with my love life again.”

Semi considers this for a moment. “On one condition,” he says, holding up a hand before Suguru can protest. “Hear me out. I did lower the ramen ratio, so… come with me to Tendou’s party this weekend? I can’t go in there alone.”  

“Tendou’s party- _are you still trying to set me up-_ ”

“Please,” Semi pleads. “Just this once, I swear. And then I will never, ever, mention Terushima again, and I’ll forget he ever existed. Who’s Terushima? I don’t know any Terushima. Okay?”

Suguru mulls this over. Tendou’s parties are known all throughout campus; they say you’ll wake up hungover the next morning whether you drank anything or not. It’s probably a life decision he’ll end up regretting.

But for Semi to _never bother him about Terushima again_ …

“Fine,” Suguru grumbles. “I’ll come.”

 

\---

 

Yuuji stumbles around the corner and smacks into a wall. Of course; the hallway is a _right_ turn… unless it’s a left turn. Who knows??? Yuuji giggles and shrugs to himself, staggering a few unsteady steps forward.

He’s kind of cold. Maybe he should have brought a jacket. Or someone to snuggle with. That sounds nice. He should get one. Where are those sold? Probably Walmart- Walmart has everything.

Yuuji feels a warm arm slip around his waist. Shirabu’s voice invades his mind, telling him to run away, the voice of reason in his alcohol-induced haze. But then again, why would he do that? He mentally swats at the thought until it goes away. Whoever’s behind him smells nice, like herbal spice and home. Yuuji turns and burrows into his chest.

“Hey. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

It’s Daishou, isn’t it? Yeah, it’s definitely Daishou. Yuuji sighs, trying to sink deeper into his shirt. The fabric is clean and blue, like an ocean of cloth that Yuuji wants to drown in.

“You’re rather touchy when you’re drunk, aren’t you?” Daishou says. His other arm encircles Yuuji, making him feel as though they’re the only two people there- wherever they are. Yuuji mumbles an incoherent answer and closes his eyes; he’s really tired.

Daishou runs his fingers through Yuuji’s hair. “It’s softer than I thought it would be,” he murmurs quietly, as if he’s talking to himself.

Yuuji hums, not really processing the words but enjoying Daishou’s voice all the same. He lets his knees go weak and hangs his entire weight on Daishou, who makes a huffing sound and tightens his grip around him him. “What are you doing to me?” Daishou murmurs.

Yuuji hums and giggles a bit in response. Daishou sighs and maneuvers over to someone else with a sharp voice and an aura of cologne. “Can we borrow a room? My friend’s dizzy.”

“Sure, sure, he’s _dizzy_. Make sure he drinks a lot of water!” says whomever it is, laughing. Daishou hoists Yuuji up and brings them somewhere else, presumably through a door. It squeaks, anyway, like metal hinges. Are hinges mice? They sound like them.

Something soft like a cloud seems to support Yuuji’s back, and Daishou’s weight presses onto his skin. But a few seconds later, the points of contact between him and Daishou disappear. Yuuji frowns. He whines in the sound of a question, lifting his hands up to try and grab onto Daishou’s clothes.

Daishou’s nose, neck, and ears are adorably red, and his hair is hanging like a curtain, separating them from the rest of the world.

“Damn, you’re cute, I really want to kiss you right now. Can I?” Yuuji isn’t aware of anything other than the warm, wondrous tone of Daishou’s voice, only recognises the word _kiss_ and the deeper lilt in tone that signifies a question.

“Sure,” Yuuji agrees. He really likes Daishou. Why wouldn’t they kiss? Daishou’s mouth is as soft and warm as the rest of him, and Yuuji wonders why they haven’t done this before.

Then Daishou’s lips begin to move, sliding along Yuuji’s own, and he _melts_.

 

Yuuji wakes up sore, his head pounding. He groans and immediately regrets the noise. A laugh in front of him makes the pain worse. Yuuji lifts his head, and there’s Shirabu, brown hair in its usual perfection and signature smirk affixed on his face. His skin is gaunt and his eyes are bloodshot, but he somehow managed to escape the hangover hell that Yuuji is currently in.

“I dragged your sorry ass back here, so you owe me one. Aspirin’s on the table, by the way.”

“Thanks, Shirabu. Sometimes you’re not half bad.” Yuuji lifts an arm to grab the aspirin, being sure not to move too fast. He curses himself for getting so drunk, for thinking he could handle whatever Tendou’s party would throw at him.

The red marks scattered across his upper arms make him pause, throat tightening in fear. “Hey, Shirabu?”

“Hm?”

“Did-” Yuuji falters; he remembers now. “Did you find Semi?”

Shirabu throws a pillow at him.

 

\---

 

Suguru sits at a wooden picnic table, knees pulled up to his chest and arms hugging his legs. The sky is a vivid, taunting shade of blue, autumn leaves blowing through the cool wind, the kind of day he would have loved if not for the hangover working at the base of his skull and the memories of last night. He sighs, burying his face inside his coat.

God, he’s so _stupid_.

He can only remember yesterday in blurry bits and pieces, fragments swirling in a pool of vodka and coke. He’d entered the party with a fixed mindset: no alcohol, no conversation, the social equivalent of a doormat. But then Kuroo had shown up, all deceptive trustworthiness and taped-over bottle caps, and somehow, Suguru had ended up completely wasted.

He’d crashed into Terushima- no, maybe Terushima had crashed into _him_ \- no, maybe the universe just hated Suguru and brought them together in their drunken states- and Suguru remembered asking for a fucking _bedroom_. There were probably rumors circulating all over campus now about Terushima’s newest conquest ( _“Daishou Suguru? Going for something new, huh?”_ ) They didn’t have sex; Terushima had passed out somewhere between first and second base, but they’d gotten far enough. The hickies under Suguru’s collar were proof of that.

It was Semi and Shirabu who’d discovered them, hair rumpled and clothes askew. Suguru had then been dragged back to the dorm room by Semi and Shirabu, Terushima in tow. In the morning, Semi apologized, looking exceedingly guilty, and there was a pile of vodka-smelling jackets in their room because Semi had gotten mistaken for a coatrack.

Fuck Semi. Fuck everything. His midterms are in a _week_ , and Suguru wants nothing more than to redo the past twenty-four hours. He and Terushima are supposed to meet in the coffeeshop in five minutes, and Suguru almost didn’t go. He doesn’t want to face him. Suguru’s officially a nothing now, anyway; before, he was at least Terushima’s close friend, someone he could talk to, but now, he’s just another one of his toys. Not even a good toy. One of those cheap trashy ones you get in the McDonald’s Happy Meal and throw away a day later.

He gets up, shoves his hands in his pockets, and heads inside. Might as well get this over with.

 

\---

 

Yuuji hovers near the door of the bakery, and when Daishou steps inside, Yuuji bounces towards him eagerly and says, “Hey! How are you?”

“Fine.” Daishou sounds disinterested, guarded, much like he had when they’d first met.

Yuuji falters at the cold tone. “What’s up?”

Daishou sighs. “I have a paper due soon, so I don’t have a lot of time today. Sorry.”

Yuuji internally frowns. Daishou’s talking much too politely, as if to a stranger, but he doesn’t sound upset. _I mean… that’s a good thing, right? We should talk about what happened… or is that too hard to bring up?_

“I don’t like the class that much, but I like the teacher and the way he does things. So I put off the paper, but I still want it to be good,” Suguru continues.

“That makes sense! I have a class like that, but the opposite,” Yuuji says. Daishou’s tone still hasn’t changed. “I love the class, but the teacher’s horrible.”

Daishou nods. “What does the teacher do?”

It sounds as though Suguru is Daishou asking out of courtesy, which makes Yuuji want to curl in on himself and hide. He carries on like he doesn’t notice, though, simply widening his smile and pitching his voice up a couple of desperate notches. “He assigns homework that covers material he doesn’t teach us.”

“Hmmm.” Daishou’s hum sounds sympathetic, the only change in tone he’s made in their entire conversation. He has his hands buried in his pockets, leaning casually against the wall with a bored expression on his face. It’s as though he doesn’t want to be there at all. Yuuji realizes he’s never going to bring up what happened at the party; he’s just going to avoid it and let it rot the ropes of their friendship undisturbed.

That puts it up to Yuuji. “Dai-”

He cuts him off, “Do you have morning classes?”

Attempt one- failed. “I have a nine o’clock class on Tuesday. It sucks, but it’s the only class with the material, and it’s not too early.” Yuuji is positive Daishou knows this already, but he answers because he’s willing to do anything for Daishou at this point.

“I only have afternoon classes.” Daishou looks away, his eyes locking on the open door as if considering whether to make a break for it.

“Ah.” The air between them is awkward, the smell of freshly baked bread wrapping tendrils around Yuuji’s throat and suffocating him. He needs to fix this. Fast. “Please, Daishou, can we talk about what happened at the party?”

“What did happen at the party?” Daishou asks. His eyes are narrowed, as if daring Yuuji to answer.

 _Oh._ Yuuji can feel something inside him shrivel. “N-nothing?”

“I have to study. Nice talking to you,” Daishou mumbles, and then he runs out the door.

 

When Yuuji gets back to the dorm he collapses face first on the bed, clenching the sheets with his fingers as sob after silent sob wrack his body.

Shirabu is the one to tug the blankets away from his face, voice unusually soft, “Hey, shithead. Have you eaten?”

Yuuji blinks at the sudden light, eyes dry and voice scratchy, “Hey, Shitabu.” He ignores the first part.

Shirabu sighs and combs his fingers through Yuuji’s messy hair. “It’s been two days.”

Yuuji doesn’t reply, only closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

Shirabu climbs off the bed and dials a number into his phone. “Semi-san, please help me-” Yuuji makes a half-hearted grab for the phone, falling off the bed in the process, and Shirabu twists away and covers the mouthpiece with his hand.

Yuuji can’t bring himself to care.

 

\---

 

“Suguru,” Semi says sharply, a head of light blonde hair jutting into Suguru’s field of view.

Suguru doesn’t respond.

“ _Suguru._ ”

“I’m doing homework,” he mumbles, gesturing to the textbook in front of him. Semi says nothing, just raises his eyebrows, and Suguru realizes that the book is upside down. He sighs in defeat. “What?”

“You _know_ what.”

“I really don’t,” Suguru says dryly, his face a mask of indifference even as his heart pounds.

Semi gives him _the look_. “According to Shirabu, Terushima’s been lying facedown on the floor for the past hour and a half. Look, I don’t know the details of _what_ happened at the party, and I’m really, really sorry for making you go, but-”

“What happened to never meddling with my love life again?” Suguru asks. “I went to the goddamn party and made a fool of myself; can’t you at least give me the respite of letting me wallow in my own self pity?”

“I just don’t understand why-”

“You want to know what happened? We were both really drunk and made out, and now the entire campus thinks we had sex, and on top of all that we’re not friends anymore-”

“Listen,” Semi says, grabbing Suguru’s shoulders and violently shaking them. “Excuse me? You made out with the person you’ve had a crush on since forever. What’s the problem with that?”

“If you made out with Shirabu while you were drunk, would you be able to look him in the eye the next day?” Suguru’s body sags, and while it’s enough for Semi to let go of his shoulders, he in no way allows the topic to slide.

“First off, Shirabu’s too smart to get drunk, and second off, that is so not the point.”

“Would you, though?”

“Okay, fine, you might have a point there, but then again, Shirabu and I are just friends, so-” Semi gestures helplessly.

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day,” Suguru says, delighted to have the upper hand in this god-awful conversation. Even if it won’t last.

Semi’s eyebrow twitches before he groans and fishes a pack of index cards from his backpack. “Jesus Christ, would you shut up for _one second_?”

“One.”

“You’re infuriating,” Semi declares. “Just… Terushima’s trying to be friends with you, and that’s only because he thinks you don’t like him.”

“I’m not the kind of person Terushima _likes_ ,” Suguru says, hands curling into fists. He’s so tired. “The only time he’d kiss me is if he were drunk, okay? And just… I can’t deal with that.” It had hurt since the beginning to have a crush on someone who’d made out with half the campus when he didn’t actually have feelings for them; now, Suguru’s joined the club.  

“I give up,” Semi mutters. Suguru’s insides unclench in relief, and he returns to studying. It’s only when he hears the scuffle of footsteps that he realizes he’s made a mistake.

Shirabu’s in the doorway, forcing Terushima inside. Semi’s got the door wedged open, bodily blocking any kind of exit, and then Semi and Shirabu step outside and force the door shut. Suguru can only will himself not to shriek when Terushima tries to open it and the thing won’t even budge.

“Don’t even _try_ ,” Semi’s muffled voice calls out. “We’re not letting you guys out until you fix this.”

Suguru looks around the room in panic. Their dorm is on the fifth floor, so jumping out the window won’t work, and Terushima has his head in his hands like a despondent rag doll.

 _Could we just ignore each other until we’re let out?_ Suguru wonders in panic. _This is like some twisted version of seven minutes in heaven. Except it’s seven minutes in hell._

And then Terushima lifts his head, stands up, and yells, “DAISHOU SUGURU! YOU’RE A FUCKING BASTARD, BUT FOR SOME REASON, I REALLY, REALLY LIKE YOU!”

 

\---

 

Yuuji doesn’t even care anymore. That’s what he tells himself; his numbness allows his that, at the very least.

Yet a part of him is vibrating in place. _You idiot!! Why would you do that?_

And even quieter: _What if he does too? Why else would Shirabu do this?_ Because Shirabu isn’t that bad, not really, despite his insults and hair-pulling. _Shirabu! Shit. They totally heard that in the hallway. Do I even care? Not really- that’s the least of my worries right now._

Yuuji dives onto the nearby bed (fuck, what if this is Daishou’s bed?) for the second time that day and burrows into the blankets. He twists, wrapping quilts around himself until he’s in a fabric cocoon and can barely breath.

A moment passes before Yuuji hears the squeak of metal springs and feels his cocoon slide a little bit to another spot on the bed, presumably to where Daishou is sitting. Not much later, he feels his cocoon unraveling, blankets being tugged off of him one by one by gentle hands.

Why gentle? Why bother to be so gentle? Does Yuuji even deserve gentle?

“Terushima.” Daishou’s voice is soft, but Yuuji doesn’t want to hear it. To face him.

He lets out a whimper and curls into a tight ball, the last of the blankets gone.

“Terushima- Yuuji.” He curls tighter, screwing his eyes shut and pressing his hands over his ears so hard it hurts.

There’s a pause in movement, and Yuuji feels a warm pressure surround him. He can feel a pulse at his back and… unwittingly, he feels safe. He feels _home._

Daishou’s fingers close around his wrists and guides his hands away from his ears, his eyes so warm and soft that it finally occurs to Yuuji that he isn’t disgusted with him.

“I like you too,” Daishou says, and those words are enough for make Terushima want to cry. He doesn’t, though; instead, he explodes into a fit of hysterical giggles, and Daishou holds him as he too dissolves into laughter.

“We messed up,” Daishou wheezes.

“Yeah we did!” Yuuji crows, his usual personality ramming into his body full force after being exiled for two days.

“I didn’t believe Semi when he said you liked me,” Daishou admits.

“Semi? Goddamn you, Shirabu!” Yuuji says. He's so tired. A happy tired. The tired you feel after days of studying for an important exam that you ended up acing.

Daishou laughs, kissing the top of his head. “I mean, it turned out well, didn’t it? Also, what the fuck is wrong with your hair? You need to take care of yourself.”

Yuuji groans. “I knew my hair’s greasy, don’t rub it in. Also, fuck Shirabu and Semi for being so annoyingly right all the time.”

Daishou nods. “We’re getting revenge on them, right?”

“Yeah, for sure. We can call my dads for ideas!”

Daishou tugs them into a sitting position, Yuuji on his lap. “Your…dads?”

Yuuji has a shit-eating grin on his face. “Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou, Tsukishima Kei, and Akaashi Keiji!”

“Good lord,” Daishou grouses. “I have the social awareness of a rock, but even I’ve heard of them. RIP our roommates.”

“Also, Daishou- are you drunk?” Yuuji asks, a gleam in his eye.

“After that past experience, I certainly hope not,” Daishou says. Then, “Are you?” Yuuji shakes his head, shifts a little bit on Daishou’s lap, and leans in.

“Not this time,” he breathes against Daishou’s mouth. Their lips slide against each other; Daishou tastes like mint tea and surprise; Yuuji hums insistently and presses their hips closer together. They fall back onto the bed, and they don’t go fast this time- there’s the lazy slide of mouths against mouths, but there’s no rush, like they have all the time in the world.

Except they don’t.

Neither of them register the click of the door opening until Shirabu’s voice calls out, “Hey, are you guys done? Cause- oh _no_.”

“What?” Semi asks. “Did it not go well?”

“Trust me, they’re happy now,” Shirabu says, his voice thick with disgust. “And I regret everything.”

 

\---

 

It’s definitely not perfect. There are times when Terushima will ask for more than Suguru can give, other times when Suguru will refuse to compromise, the opposite poles of their personalities clawing to the surface and clashing against each other. But Terushima always apologizes when he screws up and learns to understand when Suguru’s extending his own subtle brand of olive branch: a free mochi roll, a note slipped to Terushima before class, an acceptance of a party he would have otherwise refused.

Besides, they like each other, and it’s _fun_. That’s definitely the best part about Terushima, Suguru thinks. Terushima never minds when Suguru steals the drink out of his hands or wraps Terushima’s scarf around his own shoulders; Terushima drags them to amusement parks for dates and screams right along with Suguru on the rides with his tongue stained blue from cotton candy; he greets Suguru with loud hellos and unabashed kisses, and even though Suguru’s embarrassed, he likes how open Terushima is. Not that he’d ever admit that.

They’re sitting in the Shiratorizawa Bakery, drinking cappuccinos with textbooks splayed out on their table, neither of them really interested in studying. Shirabu’s behind the counter, looking extremely irritated with the reindeer headband he had to wear for Christmas, and every so often Terushima will nudge Suguru and gesture to Shirabu’s head and both of them will dissolve into snickers. The third time this happens, Terushima opens up the camera app and takes a picture.

“Terushima-san,” Shirabu hisses when he’s finally on break, “as your roommate, I have plenty of embarrassing stories to tell if you don’t delete that right now.”

“Kay,” Terushima says easily, and Suguru’s smiling because he knows that when he opens up his email the file will already be sent to him with a winky face and a peace sign emoji. Terushima taps on his phone gallery and makes an exaggerated show of dragging the picture into the trash can, and when Shirabu leaves, he turns to Suguru and- of course, winks and peace signs.

While Kuroo, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Tsukishima had plenty to offer in terms of revenge (“Cover their homework in cat stickers” “OWL STICKERS ARE BETTER!” “Please calm down, Bokuto-san” “Lame”), they both ended up deciding that watching Semi and Shirabu fumble around in their own romance was revenge enough. Of course, as their roommates, they were obliged to get them into as many compromising positions as possible.

Like now.

There’s a sprig of mistletoe conveniently placed in the Shiratorizawa cafe, and Semi ends up walking under it the same time a cute regular does. She points upward and blushes, and Suguru watches as Shirabu’s eyes narrow into slits and Semi coughs and says, “Sorry, um, I don’t-” and speed-walks away.

“They’re worse than us,” Suguru comments.

“We’re terrible wingmen,” Terushima declares. “We need to smash their heads together and make them kiss!”

“Because absolutely nothing short of that would get them together.”

“Yeah!” Terushima says. Shirabu’s looking at them with murderous intent in his eyes, and Terushima grins and yells, “Shirabu’s going to kill me later!”

“I’ll come to your funeral.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet,” Terushima says, laughing. “Anyway, they’ll figure it out! I have faith in them.” Suguru says nothing in reply, simply takes a piece of bread and dunks it into his latte, and thinks, _yeah, they will. We did too, after all._

**Author's Note:**

> CheetahLeopard: Hey! It has been amazing to work with KeyofUV who is sweet and kind and has /so many good ideas/! I hope you enjoyed!!


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